Half-naked, Averie stood in front of the mirror, his hair wet.
The reflected expression was one of sultry exhaustion.
His skin looked sickly ashen, with black circles under his eyes.
He thought he looked sick and that the reflection kept drunkenly swerving.
It made Averie nauseous.
Or perhaps, he was so sleep-deprived that every delusion felt real.
He stroked his chest.
A third Peccatum tattoo was engraved on the pale skin.
He looked back on the conversation he had with Lucifer.
"You want me to give you something?" The Warden of Hell frowned. "Would consolation do?"
"Be reasonable."
Stroking his chin, the ancient being mulled over it.
He suddenly turned to Averie. "What will you offer in return?"
"What do you want?"
The actor blinked into the void, and he was back to reality, back to his mirror.
It was getting difficult to maintain a certain level of lucidity. He couldn't tell what he was doing or which limb he was moving.
